Nelson Johnson - Boardwalk Empire - The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of Atlantic City

BOARDWALK

EMPIRE

BOARDWALK

EMPIRE

The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of ATLANTIC CITY

Nelson Johnson

Foreword by

Terence Winter

Plexus Publishing, Inc.

Medford, New Jersey

Copyright

First printing, HBO series tie-in edition, September 2010

Copyright © 2002 by Nelson Johnson

Cover Art and Interior Photographs © 2010 Home Box Office, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

HBO® and Boardwalk Empire® are service marks of Home Box Office, Inc.

Published By:

Plexus Publishing, Inc.

143 Old Marlton Pike

Medford, NJ 08055

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Cover design by Lisa M. Conroy

www.boardwalkempire.com

In memory of an extraordinary person,

my mother, Jennie Johnson, from whom

I acquired my passion for the printed word.

If the people who came to town had wanted Bible readings, we’d have given ’em that. But nobody ever asked for Bible readings. They wanted booze, broads, and gambling, so that’s what we gave ’em.

— Murray Fredericks

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Foreword, by Terence Winter

Prologue

Chapter 1: Jonathan Pitney’s Beach Village

Chapter 2: The Grand Illusion

Chapter 3: A Plantation by the Sea

Chapter 4: Philadelphia’s Playground

Chapter 5: The Golden Age of Nucky

HBO Series Photo Insert

Chapter 6: Hard Times for Nucky and His Town

Chapter 7: Hap

Chapter 8: The Painful Ride Down

Chapter 9: Turn Out the Lights

Chapter 10: A Second Bite at the Apple

Historical Photo Insert

Chapter 11: It’s a New Ballgame

Chapter 12: The Donald Comes to Town

Afterword

Source Notes

About the Author

Index

FOREWORD

Shortly after sunrise on a cool August morning in 1987, my friend Chris and I walked along the beach in Atlantic City, its Boardwalk and hotel-casinos looming directly to our right. With our ties undone, bellies full, and pockets empty after a night of gambling, drinking, and general debauchery, we were completely exhausted and wiped out financially; we couldn’t have been happier. As we trudged along, the waves crashing at our feet, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the last few coins I had. Twenty-three cents. I hurled them all into the Atlantic Ocean and turned to Chris. “Now we’re really wiped out.” After a good laugh, we headed up to the Boardwalk and started our long trek home, two hard-luck characters with another fun story to tell about our time in Atlantic City. What I didn’t know then was that versions of this scenario had been playing out there for over 100 years.

Ever since the railroad made it accessible to the average working person, Absecon Island—or Atlantic City, as it came to be known—was “The World’s Playground,” a kingdom of dreams built on sand, a place where, for a reasonable sum of money, any man, woman, or child could be treated like visiting royalty. With luxury hotels, theaters, and restaurants lining its famous Boardwalk, there was nothing the city didn’t offer—legal or illegal. Food, drink, and entertainment of all kinds, from highbrow to low. If you couldn’t find it on the Boardwalk (or on one of its many side streets), it didn’t exist.

When I was first approached by HBO to use Nelson Johnson’s book as the basis for a TV series, my biggest challenge was choosing a time period in which to set it. From the Gilded Age of the Robber Barons, to the Roaring Twenties and the Prohibition Era, to the Glamorous 1950s of Skinny D’Amato, to the city’s decline and subsequent resurgence with the advent of legalized gambling in the 1970s, Atlantic City and its people have been nothing if not compelling.

Ultimately I settled on the 1920s of Atlantic City’s legendary Treasurer Nucky Johnson (fictionalized as Nucky Thompson in the HBO series), which was the era that most struck my creative fancy. Atlantic City at that time was a place of excess, glamour, and, most of all, opportunity. Loud, brash, colorful, full of hope and promise—it was a microcosm of America. A place of spectacle, shady politics, fast women, and backroom deals, but also a real community with real people, not only on its Boardwalk, but in its churches, schools, and neighborhoods. It was a place of real Americans, a melting pot of ideas and cultures.

On my last trip there, I walked the same streets as Nucky, stood in his hotel lobby, ate in one of his favorite restaurants. I strode the Boardwalk where he reigned as king, looking out at the vast ocean that he considered his own. I was taken back in time and imagined the place as it had been, and though I enjoyed it all immensely, I needn’t have traveled so far to recreate the experience. Nelson Johnson had already taken me there in his wonderful book.

—Terence Winter

Emmy Award-winning writer of The Sopranos

and Executive Producer of Boardwalk Empire

PROLOGUE

Luxury hotels weren’t something she knew about firsthand. Until now, she had never been inside the Ritz Carlton. The closest she’d come to the grand hotel was when walking on the Boardwalk. But here she was in the anteroom of a large suite of rooms, seated in a chair that nearly swallowed her. She was frightened, but there was no turning back. She sat there trembling, folding and refolding her frayed scarf.

As a housewife and summertime laundress in a boardinghouse, she felt out of place and her nervousness showed. Flushed and perspiring, she noticed that her dress and sweater needed mending and she grew more self-conscious. It was all she could do to keep from panicking and running out. But she couldn’t leave. Louis Kessel had told her Mr. Johnson would see her in a moment and she had to wait. To leave now would be embarrassing and, worse still, might offend Mr. Johnson. If it weren’t winter, and if there weren’t so many unpaid bills, she never would have worked up the courage to come in the first place. But she had no choice; her husband had been a fool and she was desperate for her family. Louis Kessel appeared a second time and motioned to her. She followed him, not knowing what to expect.

As she walked into Mr. Johnson’s sitting room, he took her hand and greeted her warmly. It was several years since she met him at her father’s wake, but Johnson remembered her and called her by her first name. He was dressed in a fancy robe and slippers and asked what was troubling her. In an instant her anxiety vanished.

In a rapid series of sentences she recounted how her husband lost his entire paycheck the night before at one of the local gambling rooms. He was a baker’s helper, and during the winter months his $37 each week was the family’s only income. She went on and on about all the bills and how the grocer wouldn’t give her any more credit. Johnson listened intently and, when she was finished, reached into his pocket and handed her a $100 bill. Overwhelmed with joy, she thanked him repeatedly until he insisted she stop. Louis Kessel motioned, telling her there was a car waiting to drive her home. As she left, Johnson promised that her husband would be barred from every crap game and card room in town. He told her to come back any time she had a problem.

Enoch “Nucky” Johnson personifies pre-casino Atlantic City as no one else can. Understanding his reign provides the perspective needed to make sense of today’s resort. Johnson’s power reached its peak, as did his town’s popularity, during Prohibition, from 1920 to 1933. When it came to illegal booze, there was probably no place in the country as wide open as Nucky’s town. It was almost as if word of the Volstead Act never reached Atlantic City. During Prohibition, Nucky was both a power broker in the Republican Party and a force in organized crime. He rubbed elbows with presidents and Mafia thugs. But to Atlantic City’s residents, Johnson was hardly a thug. He was their hero, epitomizing the qualities that had made his town successful.